Partners In Crime
by cate's corner
Summary: A sequel to Stir Crazy. Evan and John join forces to bring McKay back into line. Sorry, Rodney, but you had it coming!


Partners In Crime by catescorner

Hello again, all, and welcome to this sequel to Stir Crazy. Special thanks to ladygris and BMick for inspiring me to write it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

A special mention, too, to my long suffering little sister, who went through the hell that Evan and John are about to inflict on Rodney. Thanks, kid. I know it's over twenty years coming, but to make up for all the fun I had at your expense, here's your two favourites in not so serious action. Happy thunking!

Partners In Crime

All great military leaders knew that planning successful strategy took patience. Cunning. A razor sharp mind. But the _best_ military leaders always had two, extra special weapons to make that plan perfect. Safe in their secret hideout, they had copious supplies of coffee, and fresh, home made cookies

John Sheppard had always found this worked a treat in the past. But today? Not so much. Worse still, he wasn't the only one who was drawing a frustrating blank on this latest mission. Stretched out on his bed, plateful of chocolate chips balanced on his lap, his _normally_ reliable second in command was equally stumped.

Those cookies have clogged up his brain, John thought, leaning forward to snag one while he still had the chance.

But then Lorne snapped his fingers, with such a glint in his eye that John grinned too, all eager expectation. Oh, thank God. That chocolate had paid off after all, he'd thought up a doozie of a plan, and -

"Got it! We do nothing. Absolutely nothing."

- _say what_?

Crushed with anticlimax, John stared at his grinning cohort in polite, sanity-questioning disbelief.

"_Nothing_?" he said at last, wondering if that suspiciously bright eyed cohort had overdone his meds. Fifty minutes of fiendish plotting and planning, and that was the best he'd come up with?

He still had to ask, though. That grin on Evan Lorne's face was, as ever, maddeningly intriguing.

"Okay, just explain to me, how we make McKay go looney tunes for us by doing… _nothing._"

"Ah, that's the best part. _He_ won't know that, " Evan explained, his dimples growing evilly deeper. "All we need to do is make him _think_ we're gonna do something. We don't have to actually _do_ it."

As the penny dropped, John stared at his partner in crime with new found, slightly freaked out respect. Beneath that quiet, some would foolishly say bland exterior lurked a mind of pure, evil genius. And judging by the gleeful admission that followed, Rodney McKay wasn't its first victim.

"I played this trick on my sister all the time when we were kids. It drove her nuts."

A pause, to fondly remember its best highlights, before the grin predictably widened.

"Still does."

"Yeah, I'll bet," John chuckled, still regarding his 2IC through newly enlightened eyes. Anyone who underestimated Evan Lorne, professionally or otherwise, was asking for trouble. That desert-dry sense of humour could be wickedly sharp, and… oh, this was going to be fun! And it had to be said that McKay had it coming.

Frustrated by a device that Coughlin's team had found, that he just couldn't get to work, he'd started to vent that frustration on his team. Inevitably, he'd been more insufferable than usual. Even Zelenka, the model of sweet natured restraint, had threatened to throw him in a stasis pod.

So yes, his second in command had earned the proud pat on his back as they left his quarters – gladly letting him take point on this latest mission to bring McKay's ego back to a liveable level.

Subtlety was going to be a key part in its success. In that respect, Evan Lorne was a true master. He could say more with a look, or a raised eyebrow, or a cryptic smile, than any number of words. So phase one, a run-of-the-mill trip to McKay's lab, passed unnoticed. Even Sheppard missed it.

But then Evan paused on the way out, turning to give McKay one of his slow, appraising smiles. And as McKay stared after them, in '_what the hell_?' confusion, John finally grinned too – waiting until they were safely out of earshot, before bowing to Evan Lorne's mischievous brilliance.

"Master, I have much to learn."

The shrug that answered him was typically modest, almost embarrassed. But the grin that followed bordered on satanic.

"And I have much to teach."

Next morning, passing McKay as he fretted in line for his breakfast, they started to up the ante – glancing at each other, several times, before turning identically concerned frowns towards him.

It worked like a charm. Reaching eagerly for his tray, Rodney froze – his appetite, for once, forgotten as he instinctively checked himself over. No, all his clothing was properly in place. Everything that _should_ have been zipped _was_ zipped, and - damn, why were they smiling at him like that?

"_What_?"

"What '_what_'?" John asked, all wounded innocence as he slapped his team-mate's shoulder. "Jeez, McKay, lighten up."

Yeah, like there was any chance of that happening now. McKay's own imagination would see to that. He saw trouble in every innocent smile. Mischief in every cheery hope for him to 'have a nice day.' Discussions on how best to deploy their scouting teams turned into a conspiracy against him.

The highlight, though, came that afternoon, when Richard Woolsey called his command team in for its first meeting. He had his suspicions that trouble was brewing when Sheppard came in, his second in command hobbling faithfully at his heels. Behind mugs of coffee, sly grins and significant looks were being exchanged.

Then Rodney came in, checking his seat for 'hidden surprises'. Every corner was nervously inspected, and that did it. Betrayed by helpless splutters of laughter, both John and Evan leaned out of their chairs to retrieve two conveniently dropped pencils.

Wondering what the hell he'd let himself in for, Woolsey glanced around the table at the rest of Atlantis' flagship team - not exactly reassured by the advice that Ronon rumbled back at him.

"Best not to know. You'll stay saner that way."

Where John Sheppard was concerned, though, it was mission accomplished. Completely pre-occupied, if rather cruelly, McKay stopped yelling at his team. As grateful as Zelenka for this, he was naturally eager to stay in Evan Lorne's favour. And as they stood watching the rare calm that had descended on Rodney McKay's lab, he decided some self preserving flattery never hurt.

"Nice job, Major. Just remind me to never, _ever_, get on your bad side."

"Don't worry, sir, that'll never happen," Evan assured him, all bright eyed, dependable loyalty – right until a straight faced, totally deadpan afterthought made his commanding officer very, _very_ nervous.

"At least not while McKay's around."

He was joking. John Sheppard was _sure_ that he was joking. But where Evan Lorne was concerned - well, you just never knew for sure.


End file.
